


Snippets

by GloriaGilbertPatch



Category: Veep
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:11:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6410164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriaGilbertPatch/pseuds/GloriaGilbertPatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I will probably never write a full-length Veep fic, but I do enjoy short things. Assorted pairings and as close to in keeping with the show's tone as I can manage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We're Not Gonna Do This Clinton-Style

“Look, ma'am, I really just want to reiterate that I had _nothing_ to do with the data breach, and you have my word on that. I like to win, sure, but I would never - I mean, I can’t imagine - ”

“Shut up, Dan, I know you had nothing to do with it; that’s why you’re re-hired. Stop defending yourself. You look pathetic.”

“Of course. I’m sorry, ma'am. I’ll just, um, I’ll…go…now?” He paused, looking conflicted for a moment and piquing Selina’s curiosity.

“Was there something you wanted to stay for?”

“I, uh, I thought - well, I kind of wanted to express my thanks - I mean, not in a _quid pro quo_ way or anything, but - ”

“Dan. Are you offering to fuck me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

He winced.

“Um, well, actually, I was thinking more like - but I mean, if you think it’s too much of a cliché…”

“So you’re offering to eat me out,” she finished bluntly, and Dan’s ears flushed pink.

“Um. Yes, ma'am.”

“All right, then, have at it,” Selina answered with a shrug. “Oh, but lock the door first, okay? We’re not gonna do this Clinton-style.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Dan said obediently, crossing the room and quickly locking the office door before turning around to find the President seated in her chair, her skirt bunched around her hips and her ankles balanced on the edge of her desk, still encased in thigh-high hosiery and Christian Louboutin stiletto pumps. She raised an eyebrow expectantly at Dan, and the confidence that exuded from her - in tandem with what was clearly meant as a challenge to him - made his cock twitch eagerly. He forced himself to walk slowly, but purposefully, over to her desk before carefully removing his suit jacket and tie and crawling between her legs with as much dignity as he could manage.

Dan leaned in tentatively, trying to get his bearings. He’d gone down on plenty of women, of course, but never _the President of the United States_ \- and never like this, with no preamble or preparation. But luckily enough, Selina seemed almost turned on enough, anyway, and so he licked his lips quickly and then leaned in further to touch her.

Whatever he was expecting - and even he wasn’t quite sure what that was - it wasn’t this. She was into it, he could tell, and her breathing and her heart rate and the way she tasted were all confirmation. But she wasn’t _saying_ anything, wasn’t gripping the back of his head, wasn’t grinding her hips into his face. She made a little noise when she came, and that was _it_ , so he brought her down slowly and then started to work her up again. And she gasped and panted appropriately and even let out a couple of soft moans that went straight to Dan’s dick (and his ego), but after she’d come three times, she cleared her throat and told him that was enough.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I could keep going.” He could, probably. His tongue was cramping and his jaw had started to ache, but he _could_ , but Selina shook her head.

“Yes, I’m sure, you can stop now,” she said briskly, so Dan pulled back and carefully got to his feet.

“How was it?” he asked tentatively as she reached for her panties, considered, and stuck them back in one of her desk drawers.

“Hmm? Oh, it was fine. Good job,” she answered distractedly, smoothing her skirt down to her knees and examining her reflection in the mirror.

“I think I can get away without wearing panties under this skirt, what do you think?”

“Um, yeah, it’s a…long skirt, you look great, ma'am.” Selina nodded.

“All right, then,” she finished, nodding towards Dan in a definite dismissal, and he hurried to leave the office before she did.


	2. Before the Good Ones are Taken

“…and before we wrap this up, ma’am, you have to make a statement on the Syrian refugee crisis,” Amy said, her voice carefully modulated to avoid nagging even though she had _said this a million times and it was becoming critical._

Well. For Selina. For Europe it had been critical for months, and for the refugees - years? But now that all the Joe Plumbers, or whatever we’re calling regular Americans this election, had finally found Syria on their maps and seen the dead kid, the President had to make a fucking decision and she _kept putting it off_ , and -

Selina rolled her eyes a little, and Amy looked quickly at Dan, who nodded. This was gonna have to be a tag-team, apparently.

“Look, ma’am, we need to act fast. If we don’t start taking refugees soon, all the good ones will be taken.”

Well, that was one way to go at it.

“Exactly,” Amy continued, quickly. “We get in now, we get the smart ones, the educated ones, the ones who figured out how to get out and had the resources to do it. We wait, we get the leftovers, and you know Merkel will laugh at you.”

“Probably rub her _Time_ cover in your face,” Dan added, and Amy had to hand it to him; he was appealing to Selina’s vanity just right.

“I don’t know,” Selina said uncertainly, although Amy had seen the flash in her eyes at the mention of the German chancellor. “I really think I need to hedge it a little, you know, placate the racists a bit.”

“You do that, we’ll miss out,” Dan said quickly. “Look, it’s a crisis, Europe can’t absorb all of them, and who the fuck wants to live in Canada, anyway? We’re gonna have to take some eventually. Let’s make sure we get the ones who speak English.”

“The governors keep saying they won’t take them,” Selina continued, and Amy bit back the urge to scream.

“Well, then the governors clearly haven’t read the Constitution, which is funny, because a fuckton of them are lawyers,” Amy answered. “Dealing with foreign countries is explicitly reserved for the federal government.”

“This isn’t going to be popular with Congress.”

“We’ll just explain to the racists that educated, professional-class Syrians are better than Mexican migrants. We’re not saying take everyone, but we don’t even need a wall; we have the Atlantic Ocean. We get to pick and choose, and we look good worldwide and get to look down our noses at Europe, which is something the racists really enjoy doing.”

“Ma’am, it’s a win-win.”

Selina sighed.

“Okay, fine. Dan, go find Mike, and draft a statement. Amy, I’m gonna need you to send feelers to Congress. _Not_ Jonah this time, capisce?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll take care of it.”


End file.
